Broken Trust
by tabascotwist
Summary: Frank and Joe argue and things spiral from there. FrankNancy JoeCallie
1. Chapter 1

This takes place after Iola's death and before Vanessa arrives in the endless space-time continuum that is the Hardys' senior year.

Warnings: Swearing and heavily implied sex. FrankNancy JoeCallie

-

Broken Trust

Chapter 1

"Score one for the good guys!" exulted Joe Hardy, slapping his brother on the back as the two young men clattered down the steps of Bayport police station.

Frank Hardy shrugged off his hand and stalked across the street to their van. Joe sighed.

"So, dinner," he said, remaining determinedly cheerful. He checked his watch. "Mr Pizza will be shut by now but Mom left us plenty of stuff in the freezer. What do you say to lasagne?"

Frank stopped abruptly, forcing Joe jump backwards to avoid running into him.

"Frank?"

"Do not talk to me."

"Huh?"

"Unless you fancy walking, you will keep your big mouth shut until we get home."

"Yes, oh master," said Joe sarcastically.

"Zip it."

"Fine."

They rode home in silence.

-

Frank pulled up onto the driveway, put the handbrake on and turned off the ignition. He slumped forwards, resting his head against the steering wheel. It sounded as if he was counting to ten under his breath. Joe stared sulkily out into the darkness, avoiding looking at his brother.

Finally Frank straightened up.

"So are you going to get out the van?"

"Oh? I can talk now, can I?

"Do not push me, Joe." Frank got out the van and walked towards the house. He still wasn't looking at his brother. Joe followed him meekly through the front door but grabbed his arm before Frank could disappear upstairs.

"Look Frank, we've had a long day. I'm tired, hungry and wired after too much bad coffee from the station. I'm sure you're not feeling your best either. How about we put some lasagne to cook in oven, have showers, eat dinner and then go to bed? We'll feel about a hundred percent better tomorrow and you can yell at me all you want. I really don't think I can take it tonight."

Joe knew his last words were a mistake even as they spilled out of his mouth. Frank's face, which had been softening, tightened into an angry mask.

"_You_ can't take it! The only reason I'm in this state is because I had to drag you out of a burning warehouse. Because you had the stupid idea to check it out on your own."

"You told me 'Interstate Removals' had nothing do with the case, therefore I should have been perfectly safe."

"Yet you _clearly_ thought it had something do with the case, or you'd never have gone there after hours."

"I told you it was strange Mike worked as a driver for an Interstate removal company but was never away from home over night. I just went to have a look around."

"And stumbled into the largest drug deal in Bayport's history. And took on the armed dealers on your own. Completely ignoring me when I told you to stay put."

"I didn't have any choice."

"There's always a choice. For my sake Joe, would you once, just once, consider the consequences before you act?"

"It all worked out in the end, didn't it?" Joe glowered at his brother with sullen defiance. He could see Frank clenching his fists and loosing all patience but he didn't care.

"That is not the point." Frank looked down his nose at Joe, doing a disturbingly good imitation of their father at his most superior. Joe gave up trying to be sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he shouted. "I'm sorry I couldn't stand by and watch them torture the poor guy. I'm sorry I couldn't take on four thugs at once. I'm sorry the police seized a record haul of drugs. I'm sorry they've decided to reopen the inquiry into Mike's death. I'm sorry I survived."

"Shut up!" shrieked Frank, driven beyond screaming point. He swung at Joe. Joe dodged to one side, catching Frank's arm and forcing it down. His own anger had faded as Frank's exploded, so he was able to speak calmly.

"Look, Frank, big brother, I truly am sorry I worried you. But we saved a guy's life and convinced the police Mike was murdered. Everything's cool."

"It is not cool. It will never be _cool_ until you get rid of your reckless disregard for the consequences."

"I did the best…"

"Shut up! I don't care about your stupid excuses. All I care about is never getting another phone call that starts, 'Frank, I'm in trouble.' I am sick and tired of pulling you out of holes you've dug for yourself. Is that understood?"

"Frank," Joe held out one hand in appeal.

"Shut up. The only words I want to hear you say are, 'Yes, I understand.'"

"Yes I understand, but Frank…"

"No, no buts, no ifs, no ands, no ors. You understand?"

"Yes," hissed Joe, tone edging into exasperation.

"Good. Now I am getting out of Bayport before I have to start thinking up ways to explain your sudden murder to Mom and Dad. Mind you, I think Dad would understand."

Joe drew back hurt, it was against the rules to bring Dad into their arguments.

"Don't give me that look. If we told him what you did, you be grounded until next year. Well I might not be able to ground you but I can sure as hell get out of town. I'm going to River Heights to see Nancy. She emailed me yesterday for advice on her current case. Don't expect me back before Mom and Dad. And do not call on me to bail you out of your own irresponsibility. Understood?"

"Fine," Joe shouted, slamming out of the house.

"Good," Frank yelled back, slamming through the house to his bedroom.

-

Frank packed with a vicious swiftness. If he were still there when Joe got back, he'd give into temptation and try and _shake_ some sense into his baby brother. He couldn't believe Joe had been so stupid. Hs heart had nearly stopped when he saw the warehouse explode with flames

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight. If he had been five minutes later Joe would have died. He had to get Joe to stop relying on him to turn up in the nick of time. He couldn't take the pressure anymore.

Even more determined to get away for at least a fortnight, Frank packed a second bag of books and CDs. Firing up his laptop, he sent a quick email to Nancy to let her know he'd arrive the next day, and then packed that too. Then he slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed his bags and hurried downstairs.

He contemplated calling a taxi but changed his mind. He might not be able to ground Joe, but he could leave him with out transportation. With a malicious smirk, he grabbed the van's keys.

-

Joe doubled over, panting for breath. His furious sprint had run all the anger out of him. Straightening up he forced himself to move in order to stop his muscles stiffening up. Slowly running through a series of stretches he admitted he could see Frank's point of view. The case _had_ come very close to killing Joe.

"I still don't see what alternative I had though. I mean sure, if I had Frank's genius maybe I could have come up with something better. But given I'm a bear of very little brain, it was the only plan I could think of."

Joe shrugged his shoulders. He tried not to take Frank's occasional blow-ups personally. His private opinion was they were his brother's way of dealing with stress of the case.

"Just wish he'd take it out on the criminals instead of me. Still I better get back. I don't want him jetting off to River Heights still mad with me. And he'll need a lift to the airport."

He jogged back towards the house.

-

Joe was surprised to see the van was missing. He dashed into the house, calling for Frank. Reaching Frank's bedroom, he stopped, stunned.

Frank's room looked ransacked. Clothes were piled up on the bed and two abandoned suitcases stood off to one side. The drawers Frank kept his CDs in stood open and half empty. Hastily, he searched through the books cluttered across the floor. Frank obviously planned to be gone for sometime.

Running downstairs, he checked the message board. Pinned on top was a short angry note.

'Left for Nancy's. Don't call. Frank.'

"Damnit Frank."

Somewhere Frank must be calming down because Joe was suddenly burning furious.

He stormed down to the punching bag hung up in the basement. Not bothering with gloves, he started punching. Picturing Frank's face on the canvas, he imagined he was thumping his overbearing, perfect, know-it-all brother.

Finally too tired to lift his arms, he collapsed on the mat, chest heaving. He was still angry with Frank but was too exhausted to really feel it. In it's place came hurt. He couldn't believe his brother had taken the van and left without saying goodbye.

As he slowly recovered his breath, Joe ran through the scenario at the warehouse yet again. He still couldn't see any better way of handling the situation. He lay there running through the possibilities until he realised he was shivering in his sweat-soaked clothes. Peeling himself off the floor, he staggered upstairs for a glass of water and then took a shower.

Clean and dressed in comfy sweats and thick socks, he felt marginally more human. His stomach growled and he remembered he hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime. Heating a can of tomato soup, he hunted out some bread rolls from the freezer and nuked them. Whenever his mother left on a trip with his father, she always left lots of ready prepared dinner in the freezer but somehow he and Frank never ended up eating them.

Thinking about his brother aggravated him so he resolutely blanked his mind. Pouring the soup into a mug, he grabbed the rolls and retreated to the TV room. Aimlessly flicking through the channels he sipped at his soup.

His resentment had faded completely by the time the house phone rang. Joe raced across the room and eagerly seized the phone, hoping it was Frank.

"Hello, is that you Frank?"

"This is your wife," said a tearful lady, "Oh darling I'm so pleased to hear your voice."

"I'm sorry, do you have the right number," said Joe. He didn't know what she was talking bout or why she sounded sort of familiar.

"It's so dreadful. I don't know what to do." Her voice trembled and broke. Joe could hear her swallowing her sobs.

"It's okay," he said quickly, her identity becoming of secondary importance. "Don't worry; I'll help you sort things out. Just tell me what the matter is and we'll go from there."


	2. Chapter 2

Unfortunately I think I was slightly misleading with the labeling of this story. It is currently Frank/Callie but everything is about to change.

-

Chapter Two

-

Over eight hundred miles away, Callie Shaw smiled as she blinked back tears. Joe Hardy was completely incredible. He had no idea who she was or what was wrong and he was already diving in to help. Suddenly feeling safe for the first time that horrible night, the refined accent she had been putting on slipped away and she said impulsively,

"You're amazing, you know."

She heard Joe gasp in surprise. "Callie? Is that you? What's going on? Are you all right?

Her situation flooded back swamping her with fear.

"I don't know. Oh Joe, I'm so scared. I think I'm in serious trouble."

"What do you need? You know I'll do anything I can to help."

Callie sniffed, smiled and wiped her watery eyes with the heel of her hand.

"Hey, it'll be okay Callie I promise. Remember you've called the right person, danger and trouble are my middle names." Joe sounded almost completely deadpan, but there was a grin in his voice inviting her to join in the joke.

Callie coughed to avoid laughing.

"Yeah I know, it's a bad joke, bad timing, sorry."

"No, no," she said quickly, disliking his self-deprecation, "I was just wondering if you were flexing your muscles while you said it."

"Well no, but I can if you want me too," he finished eagerly. He was definitely laughing now.

Callie grinned at the image and suddenly everything didn't seem so unmanageable. She took a deep breath, feeling more in control. She'd been calling for Frank's help but she didn't think her boyfriend have made her feel better any faster than Joe did.

"Okay, first things first," Joe was now all business. "Are you in immediate danger?"

"No. Maybe. I don't think so."

"That's not very reassuring Cal. Will you be safe until we can come and get you? Just tell me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Callie smiled. Joe made everything sound so simple, so safe.

"I'm still in Chicago. I'm at the…" She glanced up, saw the cluster of staff gathered around her listening curiously, and stopped speaking abruptly. She froze in place running through what she'd just said, wondering if she'd given herself away.

"Callie? Callie? Cal!" Joe's desperate shouts finally caught her attention.

"I'm fine," she said, embarrassed.

"Good Lord, Callie, don't do that to me."

-

Joe collapsed back onto the sofa, limp with relief. When Callie stopped speaking so unexpectedly, he'd been terrified something had happened to her while he was helpless to prevent it. She had sounded so scared and the last year had predisposed him to expect the worst.

"I'm sorry, I forgot where I was momentarily." Callie was again speaking with the carefully polished voice she had first used. Thinking it over, Joe checked,

"Is somebody listening in on you?"

"I'm at the Sheraton hotel by O'Hare airport. The staff were kind enough to let me phone you."

"And are enthusiastically eavesdropping?"

"Yes." He heard her sigh and then she continued, "It was so horrible all my bags were stolen as I left the airport. I have absolutely nothing. I don't know what to do." She ended on a hopeful note.

Joe's face scrunched up as he puzzled his way through her words.

"But you've been in Chicago nearly a week. Aren't you due back on Sunday?"

"Yes."

"And something's gone wrong?" He expected this sort of call from his father and brother. It wasn't supposed to happen to Callie.

"Yes. Dreadfully. I can't…" Callie broke off and Joe could almost picture glaring at her eavesdroppers in frustration.

"Can't go back to your hostel?"

"That too."

"Can't risk being found?"

"Yes."

"You're in that much danger?"

"I believe so, yes."

"So you've what? Turned up at a random hotel and told them you're Mrs Hardy and your money and identification have been stolen?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't know what else to do. I tried to call Fr- the mobile but he didn't pick up so I called your house."

"And now you need me to be your husband and pay for the room?"

"Please. I really am sorry."

"Don't be, it's a good plan. You've made it very hard for anybody to track you down." Joe spoke as confidently as he could. Inside he was deeply worried that Callie felt such extreme measures were necessary

"I hope so."

"It's okay Callie. Pass them over to me. I'll throw a fit and tell them to give you a room and you'll go to the police in the morning." Joe was walking upstairs as he spoke. He went into his father's study and started hunting through the desk drawers for his emergency, Dad-authorised, credit card. The one he was supposed to ask for permission before using.

"Okay."

"Then I'll call Frank. Coincidentally, he's already on his way to Chicago."

"Thank god."

"Lucky break huh? It's, what the hell time is it." Joe checked his watch. "Good grief. Well Frank will be there to pick you up about eightish I expect. Don't be surprised if you get a call for your chauffeur. I don't think your husband sounds like a teenager."

"No, you're right. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay Callie. Honestly. Will you be safe until he gets there?"

"Yes. I think so."

"I don't want any I think so's. You be safe Callie." Joe stifled the absurd urge to make her promise. Clearing his throat, he said, "Now you had better let me speak to the hotel staff."

"Okay."

Joe put on a similar accent to Callie, deepening and slowing his voice. Throwing a genteel fit he insisted on the best of everything for his 'wife'. She was not, he stipulated, to be bothered by the police, he would deal with everything in the morning. Reeling off his credit card number, he cringed a little at his father's probable reaction to the bill. While his Dad would do anything for him or Frank, Joe wasn't convinced it extended to covering expensive hotel bills for a nebulous emergency of Callie's.

Demanding to speak to his wife again, he waited while they passed the phone back to Callie.

"Darling?"

"Hey Callie. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." She sounded less than sure. Joe couldn't think of anything to say that would make it better.

"Well, goodbye then."

"Goodbye."

Joe sighed and put the phone down. He didn't want to lose contact with Callie; it felt like he was abandoning her. She had sounded so lost, which simply wasn't right for Callie. Joe thought about the creeps who'd upset her and grinned menacingly. Maybe Frank would like a little help dealing with them.

He punched in Frank's mobile number, he and his brother needed to plan.

-

Frank shifted irritably. He had managed to wedge himself semi-comfortably into the tortuous airport seating and didn't want to move. He was furious with Joe for his attitude, for his recklessness, for the cost of airport parking and for being stuck at Newark for two hours waiting on a flight. While, rationally, he knew the last two were more than slightly unfair, he still blamed Joe.

So when his mobile trilled he ignored it until it clicked through to the answerphone. After about five minutes it rang again. Frank continued to ignore it.

The third and fourth times it rang, he could feel his temper reignite. But he kept on it ignoring it, hoping Joe would give up and go away. He was beginning to get dirty looks that turned into outright glares when his phone started up a fifth time.

Exasperated, Frank sat up and grabbed his phone. And when he saw, as expected, that it was the house phone, he was furious.

"What!" he snarled.

"Hey Frank," came the annoyingly chirpy voice of his little brother. "Listen, something's come up."

"What?" This was pushing it, even for Joe. "How can anything possibly have 'come up'? You've been on your own for less than two hours. It's the middle of the flaming night!"

"Frank, shut up and listen to me."

"Why-"

"Frank! This is important."

"Are you being threatened with death right now?"

"No but-"

"Then sort it out yourself."

"Frank would you please listen to me for three minutes?"

"No. Call Biff. Call Chet or Tony. Hell, if it's that urgent, call Con Riley. Call anybody but your long-suffering brother. _I_ am going to have a relaxing fortnight, with Nancy. _You_ are not going to bother us."

"Callie-"

"Shut the fuck up," snapped Frank, furious that Joe was bringing his girlfriend into this.

"Fine then. Be like that you stupid, selfish moron."

Frank wondered how Joe managed to make the click of a button sound like a slam of a phone. For a moment he contemplated calling back to find out what the emergency was this time. Then he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Oh no little brother. I'm not conceding so easily. You can sort this crisis out on your own. It will be good practice for when we're off at college.

For some months now Frank had been having disloyal thoughts of going to a different college to Joe. A week ago he'd received an acceptance letter from Princeton offering a place with full funding. There was no way Joe could match that with his academic record. Frank didn't see how he could turn down Princeton for community college with Joe.

He wanted to talk it over with Nancy. He knew she'd applied as well and he was keen to know if she had been accepted. As he half dozed, waiting for his flight, he daydreamed about attending college with Nancy Drew.

-

Joe threw the handset across the room, incensed with his brother. He couldn't believe Frank had taken so long to answer his phone and then blown him off. Not only was he ignoring Joe but he was also ignoring Callie. He was supposed to be Callie's boyfriend; he was supposed to look out for her.

Joe was well aware that it was his brother's guilty conscience over his attraction to Nancy that had him swearing. It didn't mean he had to put up with it though.

"Fine big brother, you don't want to rescue Callie? Well I will." Retrieving the phone, he started to make some calls.

Since Frank had taken the van, the first thing Joe did was book a taxi to Newark. He would use the wait to get organised. Calling the airlines, he tucked the phone in the crook of his neck so he could pack while working his way through the automated response.

Two changes of clothes for himself were thrown into a small holdall. Searching through the back of his wardrobe he pulled out a smaller pair of jeans and couple of t-shirts that Callie could borrow if she needed to. Also from the back of his wardrobe, he dredged up a smart blazer and cap from a previous masquerade as a chauffeur.

Impatiently insisting on the earliest possible flight to Chicago, he hurried downstairs and grabbed a selection breakfast bars and candy as well as some bottled water. He wasn't sure but he suspected he'd have to hit the ground running when he arrived in Chicago. Hurrying back upstairs, he added the first aid kit to the holdall and his emergency detective kit, which held such essential items as a small torch and a set of lock picks.

Finally accepting a six am flight, Joe gave them his credit card details. He really, really, didn't want to be there when his father received the bill.

If he was going to be in trouble, Joe decided he might as well go all out. Breaking into his father's lockbox, he liberated the cash Fenton Hardy kept there for emergencies. Separating the four thousand dollars into three wads, he slipped one in his wallet, one in his pocket and one in the bag. He also grabbed one of the fake credit cards with an alias.

Looking back at his father's office, Joe had to admit it looked like a whirlwind had swept through it. Grabbing a note pad, he quickly scrawled 'Sorry' across the top page.

He considered leaving a longer note but he didn't really know all that much, certainly nothing that would soften his father's heart. Joe said a feverent prayer that Callie was genuinely in danger. Then he felt horribly guilty. Even if it meant his father reconsidered his position on corporal punishment, he would rather Callie was safe.

He was going to do his very best to blame everything on Frank. As a tactic though, that very rarely worked. Somehow Frank always seemed to have credibility on his side. He concluded his only chance was if he could arrange to get shot it. A bullet or broken would ensure his father was in a much more forgiving mood.

Joe giggled at the silliness of the idea. Mind you, if he spoke nicely to Callie maybe they could pretend he got shot.

Outside his taxi honked its horn. Grabbing his holdall, Joe ran downstairs and out the house.


	3. Chapter 3

-

Nancy Drew sighed when her computer binged to let her know she had mail. Searching on the Internet for information on her missing person, John Dunne, had produced an embarrassment of riches. He had apparently been the go-to guy for computer help while he was at Boston University and was name-checked on practically every special interest group's web page. So she had to work her way through endless pages of irrelevant information and email each contact person to see if they could provide her with anything useful.

It was slow, tedious work and it wasn't getting her very far. The people she had contacted weren't able to offer more than platitudes and express their surprise he had gone into criminal law as opposed to IT or patent law.

Rousing herself, she opened the email and smiled with delight when she saw Frank's name.

_Nancy, _

_Happy to help. I'll be in Chicago in the morning. I'll ring you,_

_Frank_

The terse style made her blink but she had grown used to understanding what Frank wasn't saying. Something must have upset him to have him leaving Bayport in such rush. Since he hadn't mentioned his brother coming too, Nancy suspected Joe must be the problem. She wondered what the younger Hardy had done now.

-

Frank was first in line for boarding, anxious to reach the plane and its reclining seats. He had been lucky enough to get a window seat. Whenever possible he chose the window seat for the view and Joe took the aisle seat so he was able stretch his fidgety legs as often as he could manage without annoying the stewardess. It made Frank smile to think how very rarely his brother annoyed a stewardess. One flash of his engaging grin or glimpse of his blue eyes and they were more than happy to have Joe brush past them.

Stashing his carry-on under his seat, he reminded himself that he was mad with Joe. He wasn't yet willing to forgive his brother for frightening him so badly. His heart was still pounding with adrenaline and he could still hear Joe saying,

"You're going to be too late. I've got to stop them."

Joe had utterly ignored his shouted commands to stay hidden. Driving with his mobile glued to ear, Frank had heard only the indistinct sounds of a possible fight and then a long drawn out screech of pain. He'd frozen for a minute before throwing his phone behind him and stepping on the gas. As he pulled up outside the removals warehouse, he saw the flames.

Frank stamped down on his errant thoughts. If he kept this up he'd be jittering all the way to Chicago. Sitting down, he tucked the complimentary blanket around himself and clipped the seat belt in place.

It felt peculiar not sitting next to Joe. Joe was supposed to be beside him, subtly fighting for possession of the arm rest, teasing him about his dislike of flying in a large plane with a pilot he didn't know and, basically, just being there grinning at him.

Frank pulled the scratchy blanket over his head, closed his eyes and sternly told himself to go to sleep.

-

Joe skidded into the airport at a dead run. He was the last through the gate; the stewardess was already packing up. Panting for breath, he stumbled onto the plane. Only as he found his place did he realise he was lucky enough to get an aisle seat. Stuffing his holdall into the overhead locker, he sank gratefully into his seat. Looking at the frowning man beside him he was struck by an intense longing for Frank.

His brother was supposed to sit next to him. How else could he tease him about his dislike of large planes? Who else could he talk to over the flight? Frank was supposed to be _there_.

Too wound up to sleep, he fidgeted restlessly. He flicked through the safety information, studied a map of O'Hare airport and showed a completely spurious interest in the complimentary magazine. He wanted to be there already. Callie had said she would be safe but with no idea what she was up against, how could he be sure?

The scowl from his increasingly frosty neighbour was almost comforting. The guy glared nearly as good as Frank.

-

Callie had dragged the armchair across the room so it blocked the door. At least that way she would have some warning before anyone got inside her room. She knew Frank and Joe had pulled the 'room service' trick on numerous occasions and had no intention of letting anybody do it to her. That door was staying shut until Frank arrived.

Curling up fully dressed in the huge cold bed, she tried to calm down enough to sleep.

-

-

Joe was very nearly the first off the plane. Clutching his holdall, he walked through the airport at a fast clip. He wanted to run but knew security would be on him immediately. Thankfully he hadn't checked any baggage, so he was able to move swiftly towards the Sheraton.

-

Frank strolled leisurely through the airport to the baggage claim. He saw no point in hurrying. No matter how long it took you to get there, your bag always arrived half an hour later.

Uncomfortable with himself, he had to admit that right now he wasn't missing Joe at all. His brother would be pacing restlessly and trying to get him to speed up. Frank wasn't sure he currently had the self-control to do deal with an impatient Joe. He decided that a holiday away was just what he needed to recharge his tolerance levels.

-

Callie jerked awake at the harsh ringing sound. Her hand fumbled over the bedside table trying to shut off her alarm clock and found the phone. Suddenly wide-awake, she shot up in bed, clutching at the phone.

"Yes. Yes hello?"

"Mrs Hardy, your chauffeur is here."

"May I speak to him please?" Callie wasn't going to make a mistake now, not when she was so close to being safe.

"Sure."

"Hello?" asked Callie cautiously.

"Good morning Mrs Hardy," said a voice brimful of good humour.

For a moment Callie was confused. It wasn't Frank but, "Joe!"

"Present and correct."

"Oh thank god."

"Hey, it's okay. Just come downstairs and I'll get you straight home."

"You're a lifesaver Joe. I'll be right there."

Callie scrambled out of bed. She adjusted her silk scarf and put on the enormous sunglasses she'd bought yesterday in an attempt at a disguise. Patting her hair into place, she decided she would pass. Dragging the armchair away from the door, she left the room with relief.

She was upset that Frank wasn't there to pick her up. If Joe could make time from their cases, why couldn't Frank? However by the time the lift reached the ground floor she was already feeling guilty. No doubt Frank was still benched from injury after the brothers' latest case. Then she felt even more guilty for treating her boyfriend's possible hurts so casually.

"But really, when it happens so often, how am I meant to feel?" Rewinding her speech, Callie stopped, horrified at herself.

"Callista Rebecca, I cannot _believe_ you just said that. You are going to have to be extra nice to Frank when you see him again."

-

Frank had collected his bags. Now he was sitting in a coffee bar, staring at his mobile phone. His temper had cooled to the point he realised sending Nancy an email she had no chance to reply to and then just turning up was actually rather rude.

Finally summoning up his courage, he rang Nancy's number.

"Hello? Nancy speaking."

"Uh, hi Nanc," he said sheepishly.

"Frank," she said happily, her voice growing warm. "How are you? Did you get away without throttling the dreaded little brother?"

"Yes, thankfully," he said, smiling. "I am sorry about my abrupt email."

"Nonsense, I could use some fresh eyes on my case. And it's always pleasure to see you. Do you know this is the first time I'll see you without Joe at your heels?"

"Really? I suppose it is."

"Uh-huh, so we'll have a nice grownup time, without the 'children'."

"Sounds good." Frank thought it sounded very good. A nice peaceful week with Nancy, running an organised investigation would be heaven.

"So you're at the airport now? I'll come and get you."

"Nancy, you don't have to do that."

"Be happy too. We can discuss the case on the way back."

"Done then. I'll keep an eye out for you."

"Excellent. Well, see you soon."

"It will be good to see you again."

"You too Frank, you too."

"I guess you better be going?"

"Guess so. I won't be long."

"Hey, no speeding on my account."

"No, no, emergencies only. If for no other reason than I'd be awfully embarrassed to get a ticket because I was in a rush to see my, my friend."

"Me too. Being embarrassed I mean."

"Exactly. Well I better be off, or I'll never get there."

"Okay then."

"I'm glad you came out."

"I'm glad I came out. Thank you for coming to pick me up."

"My pleasure."

"Bye Nancy, drive safe."

"I will."

"I know."

"Bye Frank."

"Bye Nancy."


	4. Chapter 4

-

Joe grinned as he saw Callie walk into reception. Hearing her on the phone had been a relief but it was even better to actually see her. Her tense worried mouth curved up into a warm smile when she saw him. Her pace quickened and her arms came up. Joe quickly thrust the huge bouquet of flowers he'd bought into hands.

"Good morning Mrs Hardy, if you'll follow me."

Callie nodded, clutching her flowers.

Joe led her outside the hotel and along the sidewalk before ducking around a corner and sliding between two buildings. Then ended up in a small concrete yard beside a row of dumpsters. Joe dropped his bag and stretched, relaxing his tense muscles.

"We should be okay for a moment. I scouted this place out on my way here. There are no CCCTV cameras watching this spot. Unless the operator was particularly awake we should be off the radar. So Callie, what's going on?"

Callie hid behind her flowers.

"Can we keep moving for the moment? I want to get out of Chicago as soon as possible."

Joe sighed. "I guess that makes sense. Let's see if we can look a little bit different when we rent the car."

He took off his chauffer jacket and cap and shoved them back in his bag. He looked up at Callie and considered her black boots, pencil skirt and smart black coat.

"Uh Callie?"

"Yes?"

"How do you feel about getting changed?"

"I haven't got anything to change into."

"I packed an old pair of jeans and t-shirt. They won't fit you well but at least they'll look different. When a witness describes a suspect most of what they notice is their clothes."

Callie chewed on her lower lip. "Okay," she decided slowly, "I've been wearing office casual all week so at least it will be different."

"Good. We better dump the flowers too. Pass them here and I'll toss them in the trash."

"Do we have too?"

"Uh, they are kind of noticeable."

Callie sighed. "Sorry," she said handing them over, "It's just they're beautiful. I've never been given such a huge bouquet before."

"I'll make Frank buy you some more when this is over."

"No, it's all right. I'm being silly. Flowers don't last long enough for what they cost. Why did you buy them anyway?"

"Seemed the sort of thing Mr Hardy would do for his wife." Lifting the dumpster lid, Joe boosted the flowers to the back. Letting the lid slam shut, he dusted his hands off on his jeans.

"Right the clothes are in the bag. So, um, if you get changed here, I'll go stand over there." Joe turned away, trying to give Callie as much privacy as possible.

"Promise not to look?"

Joe spun around, "Of course I won't…" he stopped when he saw her grin and realised she was teasing. "Well, only if you want me to." He settled back to watching the wall.

"Careful," said Callie, "You'll loose your boy scout merit badge."

Joe laughed, "Now you're muddling me up with Frank, Cal. I just went for the camping, I never had the patience to meet all their requirements. Now my brother, he was the Eagle Scout with the record number of palms."

"Sounds like Frank. Since you came anyway, can I assume he's not hurt too badly?"

"Hurt? Who?"

"Frank."

"Frank's not hurt."

"Then where is he?"

"Ah."

"Can I assume I'm not going to like the answer?"

"Tell you what, let's go hire a car and get the hell out of Dodge."

"Joe?"

"Ye-es."

"You will tell me."

"Course I will. It's just a long story and we don't have much time."

"Whatever you say," said Callie, sounding completely unconvinced. "Right you can look."

Joe turned and loudly wolf-whistled. Callie blushed.

"Give over, I look like I've put on five stone." She flapped the too large t-shirt expressively.

"Nuh-huh. You Callie Shaw could look good in a sack."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Let's not put that to the test, okay?"

"Why not? With you modelling them we could start a whole new fashion. Ladies will be lining up to buy the newest sack in the very latest shade of mucky beige."

Joe pretended to look hurt as Callie giggled.

"Given your ideas of fashion, I'm suddenly grateful for baggy clothes."

"Don't get to relaxed, we've got a long way to go. I may yet have to improvise."

"The word strikes fear into my heart."

Joe laughed and bent down to repack the bag.

"Joe?"

"Yes." He looked up to see Callie staring down at him, chewing her lower lip.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," said Joe with all the confidence he could muster. Straightening up, he grabbed the bag.

"After all," he added, extravagantly offering Callie his arm, "You are in the company of the daringist and dashingist private eye the world has ever seen."

"One question?" Callie linked her arm with his and together they left the shelter of the alley.

"Yes."

"Where exactly is this paragon?" sad Callie with a perfectly straight face.

"Youch," yelped Joe, "That was cutting." He elbowed Callie gently in the side in retaliation.

"What did I say?"

"You need to work on that innocent look, Cal."

Joe glanced back towards the hotel and was surprised to see three police cars pulled up outside, lights flashing.

"Hey, I wonder what's going on?" Curious, he started drifting closer. Callie tightened her grip on his arm.

"Oh Joe, I think they're looking for me."

Joe looked at her, his eyes wide. As they walked away in the opposite direction, he said,

"You know, I think now would be a great time to tell me what's going on."

-

Frank smiled as he spotted Nancy's car. Grabbing his bags he quickly made his way over to her. Nancy stepped out of the car and waved at him.

"Hi Frank."

"Nancy."

Nancy opened the trunk; Frank dumped his bags and slammed it shut. Turning he almost stumbled into Nancy. Catching himself with one hand on her arm, he smiled.

"It's good to see you."

She smiled back, "You too." For a moment they stayed there, then Nancy lent forward to give Frank a quick awkward hug. It was over too quickly for Frank to really appreciate it. He took a step after but Nancy shook her head.

"We better get going the forecourt's not really the place to – catch up."

"No, you're right. It's just, really good to see you." Frank ducked his head; he had the unnerving feeling he was blushing, and scrambled into the passenger seat. Nancy got back behind the wheel, checked her mirrors and smoothly pulled away.

"So," she said, "Can you stay long?"

"As long as you can put up with me."

"Careful, Frank that could be a long time."

Frank laughed. "Seriously though, maybe a week. I just need to get away for awhile."

"So you didn't come here to see me?"

Frank's head shot up. "No!" he exclaimed, horrified, "That's not what I meant at all."

"Relax, I was just teasing."

"Sorry."

"It's not a problem. But Frank, are you okay? You seem awfully tense."

"I'm fine, my nerves are just shot after Joe's latest stunt."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Later maybe. For now why don't you tell me about your case? Has anything new come up?"

"Nothing. It's as if he just went out to lunch and vanished into thin air."

"Tell me about it from the beginning." Frank ferreted through his jacket pocket for a notebook and pen ready to jot down the important details.

"Okay then." Nancy paused for a moment as she pulled out onto the freeway and then continued. "John Dunne came to work for my father three months ago. I met him a couple of times. He was quite young but tired looking. Shorter than me, pale skin, brown eyes, black hair. He never talked about himself, or much at all unless you got him started on a point of law. Even then when he realised he was talking, he'd clam right up.

"Dad liked him. Said he was a hard worker. He graduated from Boston Law School just over a year ago and went to work for the Chicago State's Attorney Office. For some reason, and everybody I've spoke to has given me a different one, he quit and came to work for Dad."

"What did Dunne say?"

"He said Chicago didn't suit him and he wanted somewhere quieter. So he came to River Heights, worked his socks off for three months and vanished.

"He went out to lunch on Tuesday and just never came back. We called the hospitals and the morgue. Dad and I went round to his apartment. Far as we could tell nothing was missing. His wardrobe was full of clothes."

"What have the police done?"

"Not sure if they've even looked. They say he's left of his own accord."

Frank shaded a square on his notepad. "That seems very unlikely. People usually take clothes at the very least."

"Yes, and I called in a couple of favours. His bank account, credit cards… all untouched."

"Damn, that doesn't sound good."

"I know. And the police aren't doing anything."

He frowned, "Why not?"

"This is where the reason he left Chicago becomes important. Apparently he had a nervous breakdown and just walked away from the job."

"But you don't think so?"

"I don't know what to think. The police believe he's just had another breakdown. But even so he still has to be _somewhere_."

"True. And if so it's even more important to find him."

"Absolutely. Dad feels dreadful about it. Feels he let him down somehow. I've got to find him Frank."

"Hey, you know I'll help you."

"Yes I do and I'm very grateful." Nancy reached across and took his free hand in hers. Frank squeezed her hand comfortingly before letting go. He returned to contemplating his notepad.

"So what does your dad think?"

"He's stunned. He thought John worked too hard, and coming from my dad that's saying something, but he assumed it was first failure syndrome."

"Huh?"

"Dad thought he'd lost a case he should have won and was trying to make up for it. A lot of lawyers don't react well to their first big failure. Dad says the first time he wrong-footed himself in court he spent the next six months over-compensating madly."

"But he didn't disappear?"

"No. And John's cases were going great."

Frank doodled across his pad.

"So what have you found?"

"Nothing much. His mother died while he was in college. No other family. He had a girlfriend in Chicago but I've got no more than her first name."

"Anything else?"

"Something happened to make him quit but I don't know what. Practically everyone I spoke to had a different reason. Breakdown, split up with his girlfriend, arrested, doing drugs, alcoholic, argument with his boss, the police, a defence attorney or a judge. Oh, or offered a better job, but I know that one's false cause he was unemployed before he started working with Dad."

"Definitely sounds like that's worth checking out. Maybe we should head into town instead of going back to River Heights."

Nancy laughed. "Before I'm taking you anywhere Mister, you're going to take a shower."

Frank opened his mouth to protest and the reconsidered. Need aside, a long, hot shower sounded a wonderful idea.

"You're probably right. Maybe some breakfast too." The thought of food made him realise how hungry he was. "I had a snickers at the airport but before that it was yesterday lunch."

"Have you had any sleep?"

"Dozed on the plane."

"No wonder you're so wound up. I think Chicago can wait until tomorrow. How about we pack our bags and take a couple of days over it. We can investigate in the day and take in the sights at night. Maybe see a play?"

"That will be perfect. Always knew you where a genius."

"And don't you forget it. So now that's sorted out, do you want to tell me what happened yet? You know you'll feel better after you've vented."

Frank ran his hands through his hair. "I don't even know where to start. It was a screw-up from the very beginning."


End file.
